


Signals Received

by Dr_Wahoo



Series: Kunugigaoka Faculty Bonding [2]
Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Anxiety, Brief discrimination, Developing Friendship, Genderfluid Korosensei, Humor, Mild Angst, Multi, Rated teen mostly for language, References to past trauma/traumatic pasts, a bit of hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Wahoo/pseuds/Dr_Wahoo
Summary: Irina is an expert in all of her fields, especially in reading people. That gets put to the test by Korosensei. As the year progresses, she realizes they have more in common than she’d thought... and that she doesn’t mind letting her guard down so much.
Relationships: Irina Jelavić & Korosensei, Irina Jelavić/Karasuma Tadaomi, Karasuma Tadomi & Korosensei
Series: Kunugigaoka Faculty Bonding [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600096
Comments: 15
Kudos: 70





	Signals Received

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I’m sorry it took me so long to put up this second and final part to the series. Life took over for awhile, and then the current global situation just blew everything to pieces for longer than I think any of us wanted. (I hope all of you are safe and well during these difficult times.) Finding motivation was a challenge, and I got stuck a few times, but I think I’m reasonably happy with the final result. I just want to get it out there and not make anyone wait any longer.
> 
> I’ve always wished that Irina and Korosensei had more time together in the narrative that wasn’t centered around her, uh, assets. They’re both assassins that eventually want to put their pasts behind them and better themselves. There’s some interesting common ground there, in my opinion. This is my attempt at exploring that ground. I hope you all enjoy it!

Irina absently tapped a pen on her desk, scanning over a new vocabulary list. Words such as _intimate_ and _radiant_ swirled over the page in her elegant and fine-lined cursive. Her gaze fell on _boudoir_ and she frowned, thinking, _I’m not sure if the brats are ready for a word like that._

At the edges of her concentration, she heard a shuffling noise. 

_I mean, it’s French. They can barely pronounce English words._

The shuffling turned into a familiar squelching. She gritted her teeth.

_How can they say this if they can’t say ‘bedroom’ without—_

A tall shadow swayed over her desk. 

“Okay, that’s it!”

The octopus startled, flinching as Irina violently shoved her chair back from the desk and glared up at him. “U-uh—”

“Your hovering is driving me crazy! Just get it over with and say something or take my candy already!” 

“What?! Miss Irina, I’ve done no such thing!”

“Then how do you explain that stain on your tie?”

“…alright, I _might_ have done such a thing—”

“Ha!”

“—but that isn’t why I’m here today!” he blurted, frantically waving his tentacles. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Irina crossed her arms. “Oh, yeah? About what?”

“Today’s challenge, of course. Your assassination of Karasuma was admirable and you deserve all the—”

“Wait a second! I want to talk about this with _you,_ actually! What were you thinking, putting me on the spot like that?! And you got Lorvo hurt!”

“I’m sorry your mentor was injured — I’ll admit, I hadn’t thought Karasuma would respond so drastically — but I wanted him to see you were still capable.”

“Well, it didn’t work! Karasuma practically let me ‘stab’ him.”

“Oh? Did he, now?” the octopus gasped, leaning in with a giddy grin.

Irina shoved him away. “Ugh, don’t get all excited. It doesn’t mean anything. Besides, it still didn’t work!”

“I disagree. Your mentor seemed convinced of you still being capable… and I think he thought Class E was a good fit for you as well.”

“You keep saying that. Why go to all this effort just to keep me around?”

“ _Just_ to keep you around? Miss Irina, you do yourself a disservice! You’re a wonderful and valued teacher of Class E.”

She froze, squinting up at him. “You… sound pretty sure of that.”

“Why wouldn’t I? The students are learning so much from you already! Not just how to speak in different languages, but also the essential skills of communication.”

“‘Essential’ how? I doubt they want to be honeypots when they’re all grown up.”

“Do _you_ want that for them?”

“…no.”

“And that is why you’re a good teacher,” he said gently. “You care about your students and you want the best for them.”

“Hey, I never said I cared about the brats. They just deserve better than that kind of life. Everyone does.”

The octopus’ smile suddenly sobered. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“Then what’s your point?” 

“You have to admit, you’re teaching useful skills. Communication will take them to many new opportunities in life. It has its ways of opening doors, as you know.”

Irina blinked. “You’re serious?”

“Absolutely!”

She finally saw them in her mind as adults: each of them used perfect word choice and the subtlest of flattery, but instead of wearing slinky dresses on someone’s elbow, they wore suits and sat across from their interviewers. Kanzaki, Kayano, even Okuda… all of them poised and steady.

All of them confident. 

She sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “Okay. You’ve made your point… and I think I get it now.”

The octopus lit up with his sunniest smile yet. “Wonderful!”

“But don’t tell anyone! I don’t want the brats thinking I’ve gone soft.”

“Miss Irina, I think it’s far too late for that.”

Face reddening, she swung an anti-sensei knife at him. He dodged easily in a blur of yellow and green stripes, chuckling.

“Ugh! You stupid, good-for-nothing—!”

“Miss Irina?”

She whirled around. Karasuma stood in the doorway, watching with a raised eyebrow. “It’s English period now.”

“Oh my, look at the time! I’ll leave you to it, then!” 

“Wait a second—!”

A gust of wind cut her off and the octopus was gone. Karasuma sighed. “Do I even want to—”

“No,” Irina snapped. She snatched up her new vocabulary lists and stomped out, muttering vows of revenge under her breath. 

It wasn’t until after English when she returned to the teachers’ offices, tired but with correct pronunciations ringing triumphantly in her ears. As she walked in, she noticed something rectangular and flat on her desk.

Gold foil-lettering glinted in the name of an expensive chocolate brand. A folded index card sat next to it.

“What?” she asked, opening the note. “Who—?”

A doodle of an octopus grinned back at her.

“Damn it!”

_Dear Miss Irina,_ it read. _Please consider this a peace offering for our earlier argument and as compensation for the candy I took from you._

“The jerk!” she hissed. “Taking my stuff, mocking me, and _then_ trying to buy me off with the most expensive chocolate he — wait, how the hell did he afford this?!”

_P.S.: This isn’t a bribe (how dare you suggest such a thing!) because it was on sale. I still have the receipt if you don’t want it after all…_

She stared at the note, then at the chocolate bar. 

“…that son of a—”

Irina shoved the note aside, tore open the foil wrapper and chomped into the bar, still fuming. Her expression slackened into one of bliss as she chewed.

“Damn his stupid face and stupidly good chocolate,” she mumbled around a mouthful. 

  
  


*******************************

  
  


“Oh, sh—!”

Irina’s ankle twisted out from underneath her. The heel of her shoe snapped in half and she fell to the ground, sprawling on the path. Dirt smeared all over her white blazer and skirt. “Ugh…” she groaned, sitting up. A few purpling bruises already decorated her knees, but that didn’t compare to the sharp, stabbing pains in her ankle. 

_Damn this path and damn this stupid mountain!_ she thought bitterly. _It’s a miracle nobody’s broken their neck yet!_

Something crunched underneath her. Wincing, she felt around until she pulled out her cellphone. Spiderweb cracks splintered its screen.

_And I’ve wrecked my phone. Great. Just great! Now what do I do?! Everyone’s already left for the day and I can’t call for help!_

_Wait, there’s first aid kits back on E-Campus… and I’m closer to it than the main campus right now, so that means…_

_…I have to crawl up this path, don’t I._

“This day keeps getting better and better,” she mumbled under her breath, beginning her awkward, three-limbed crawl in the dirt. It took almost ten minutes to make it to the top of the mountain. The sun sank lower in the sky, positioning itself to beat its rays down on the back of her neck. Tiny pebbles dug into her knees and strands of hair fell into her eyes.

Finally, she flopped into the schoolyard. Irina allowed herself a moment to catch her breath before struggling to her feet and hobbling into the building. 

_Thank God! Now, where’s the kit and those ice—_

She stopped in her tracks.

An unplugged rice cooker stood in the middle of the room, bursting with white rice. Seaweed packets and finely-chopped vegetables sat on a plate nearby. In the corner, a pile of wrapped sweets teetered precariously.

“The hell…?”

She took another step, only to almost trip over a giant sleeping bag. Tiny yellow octopi dotted its pink fabric.

_You — you’ve got to be—_

A gust of wind suddenly blew into the room.

“Perfect! Now I can aaaaa _aaaaaAAAAHHHH!!!!!!!!”_

Irina screamed. Her ankle twinged painfully as she wobbled into a desk, nearly toppling over before grabbing it for support. She looked up to see—

“Oh, Miss Irina! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—!”

“What’re you doing here?! It’s after hours!” 

The octopus wore a sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants. Flushing dark pink, he held the crinkling bag of potato chips in his tentacles like a shield. “W-well,” he stuttered, “I could ask you the same question!”

Irina grabbed a first-aid kit off the wall and hobbled to a chair. “I tripped on that damn path,” she said through gritted teeth. “My ankle’s twisted and—”

“Wait, where was this?”

“A third of the way down the mountain.” 

“But then…” The octopus trailed off, paling. He dropped the chip bag. “You must’ve crawled all the way back up here!”

“What else could I do? Pogo-stick my way back?”

“No, no! You misunderstand me, Miss Irina. I… I’m so sorry. Had I known, I could’ve helped—”

“Because you’re sleeping in the classroom, aren’t you.”

“…yes.”

Irina frowned, even as she deftly wrapped up her ankle. “Why?”

He shuffled his tentacles. “It was part of the agreement with the Japanese government. Seeing as I‘m not exactly inconspicuous, they thought I’d attract too much attention in public housing.”

“And since they’ve already got the school kinda secured, they figured this would be the next best place?”

“No, but… well, let’s just say I didn’t want the hospitality a military holding cell has to offer.”

“…point taken. But this place isn’t great, either. It’s still out in the open and… wait, does Principal Jerkwad know you’re crashing here?”

The octopus rubbed the back of his head. “Wellllll…”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Irina muttered, finishing the bandages on her ankle. “Seriously, this won’t end well. Either some rando’s gonna get suspicious and stumble across you, or the principal’s gonna find out — and I think we both know he’d use it to his advantage.”

“But—”

“And that’s not even factoring in the kids!”

The octopus blinked. “What about the children?”

“They _like_ you, idiot! If they find out, it’s only gonna make them more gushy and sympathetic towards you, and they’re smart! They’ll figure it… oh, _now_ what?”

“You really think they like me?!” he gasped, dramatic tears spilling down his face. 

“Wh— that’s not—!”

“Oh, that’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all day! All week, even!”

“It wasn’t a compliment! I’m training them to _kill_ you, for God’s sake!”

“I’m just so happy!” he blubbered, and Irina groaned. 

It took several minutes and a generous amount of tissues for the octopus to calm down. However, he also grabbed a few ice packs in between his trips to the tissue box, and Irina was quick to press them to her still-throbbing ankle. Glancing at her watch, she slowly struggled back to her feet. 

“Miss Irina? What are you doing?”

“I’ve got to get back to my car,” she grumbled. 

“May I offer my assistance? I still feel awful about before.”

“…fine. I don’t want to hobble down the mountain again.”

Irina barely had time to blink before colors and wind flashed by her eyes. The next thing she knew, she stood in the staff parking lot on a pair of crutches — _where the hell did he get those?_ — next to her car.

“There! I hope the crutches will make things a little easier on your ankle,” he said cheerfully. “And, ah… well…”

“What?”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell the children about my living arrangements.”

She slowly pivoted around to look up at him. “I won’t tell them, but they’re smart. They’ll probably figure it out.”

The octopus deflated. “I… I understand. I’d hate to compromise Karasuma and your teachings, much less my own. It’s just that there are few other options at the moment. Besides,” he added, perking up slightly, “I’ve stayed in far worse places.”

“…if you say so. Thanks for the help, I guess.”

“Of course! See you tomorrow, Miss Irina!”

The octopus disappeared in another gust of wind. As she carefully maneuvered to her car door, she spotted something next to it on the pavement.

A plastic tub of sushi rolls waited for her. A note sat on its lid, reading, _Since you didn’t want to stay for dinner, I thought I would send some home with you! I always make too much rice in this cooker for one person._

Irina just stared at the tub. _It could be another bribe,_ she told herself. _He’s just trying to shut me up about his ‘living arrangements’ or whatever._ Yet some of what he said again rang in her head, twisting in her gut with an uncomfortable familiarity. 

_“Besides, I’ve stayed in far worse places.”_

“…damn it.” 

She suddenly opened the car door, digging around inside until she pulled out her spare cell. The screen lit up with a pensive blue glow as she tapped the texting app.

_ Irina J: _ _hey_

_ Karasuma: _ _What is it?_

_ Irina J: _ _explain why the octopus is sleeping in the classroom_

_ Karasuma: _ _…I’m assuming that since you know, he told you himself._

_Irina J_ _: look i just don’t think it’s a good idea. the kids are smart. they’ll figure it out and then they’ll probably feel bad for him_

_ Irina J: _ _that’s not how you want assassins to feel about their target_

_ Karasuma: _ _What are you suggesting?_

_ Irina J: _ _talking it over again with your superiors or whatever. there’s got to be another way to keep him under wraps without compromising the kids’ mission_

_ Karasuma: _ _…I’ll set up a meeting._

_ Karasuma: _ _Thank you._

_ Irina J: _ _for…?_

_ Karasuma: _ _Your help. You’re also an assassin. You don’t have to help the Ministry or the kids with taking him down, but you are. So thank you._

_ Irina J: _ _oh_

_ Irina J: _ _you’re welcome, then_

She turned off the cell, tossed it into the backseat with the sushi and clambered into her car. It peeled out of the parking lot at a speed ruthless enough for her to avoid thinking about what she’d done — or rather, why she did it. 

_“…I’ve stayed in far worse places.”_

It _had_ been familiar. Something about the measured nonchalance in the octopus’ tone, like it was a simple fact. She knew she’d used it herself. Specifically, she remembered using it as she assured Lorvo that no, the tiny hotel room was fine; it looked like a subway station compared to the cellar she hid in with the body of—

_Nope. Not going there, Irina. Not. Going there._

Exhaling with forced slowness, she stomped harder on the gas pedal.

  
  


*******************************

  
  


Irina worried at the hem of her t-shirt, her nails catching on the fabric. “I still don’t get how this’ll help,” she muttered.

“You wanted a larger skill-set,” Karasuma said calmly. “I offered for you to join us in drills and _you_ accepted. This was also your idea.”

She couldn’t do much in reply except glare at him, because anything else would be admitting he was right. He met it with his usual half-lidded stare, and she eventually turned away with a scoff.

They jogged through the thick wilderness surrounding the school that day. Irina’s ankle still twinged every now and then, so she hung to the back of the group and took it slow. Unfortunately, her lungs protested this rare bout of exercise with fiery cramps and gasps for air. “You alright?” Karasuma suddenly asked. He jogged beside her with only a sheen of moisture glistening on his skin.

“What do you think?!” she snapped, gesturing at her sweat-drenched self. “I’m not used to this, okay?”

“You’ll get used to it. Doing it more helps.”

“Oh, thanks a lot, Mr. Churchill! _Real_ inspiring speech there!”

Karasuma arched an eyebrow. “Churchill?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who—”

“I know who he is. I just didn’t think you’d mention him.”

Irina almost tripped over her toes, stumbling. She managed to right herself and huff, “Well… yeah! He helped lead a country through all sorts of crap on words alone. ‘Course I was gonna study him and his speaking.”

Karasuma considered this. “Not a bad idea,” he finally said, his brow furrowing and an impressed lilt rising into his voice. 

“Oh. I mean, of course. It’s a great idea! Haven’t you listened to those recordings? I’d be a damn fool to pass a fraction of that up in my line of work.” As she rambled, he didn’t lower his gaze or lose the interest telegraphed in the subtle tilt of his head, or the swivel of those broad shoulders towards her. Irina knew all sorts of language, body language included. 

“Uh, Mr. Karasuma? Where do we go from here?”

And then he jogged back to the front of the group, taking charge again and guiding them down the fork in the trails without a backwards glance. It didn’t sit right under Irina’s skin. Mixed signals never did. 

“Ms. Bitch?” Kataoka tried, flagging beside her with a tired grin. 

“Yeah?” she asked distractedly. 

“If it helps, I know Mr. Karasuma is right. I’ve been getting better at these drills with more time and practice. You’re starting out better than I did!”

“That’s not what’s bothering me, kid, but thanks.”

Kataoka blinked, brushing dark hair over her shoulder. “Can I ask what is bothering you, then?”

Irina’s mind went blank. _Crap! I can’t tell her about whatever_ **_that_ ** _was! Think, dammit! What else can I say?! Uh, uh…_

“The octopus!” she blurted.

“Oh? What did he do?”

“He didn’t _do_ anything. He’s just — I don’t know, I can’t get a read on him!” 

Kataoka tried and failed to hide a smile with her hand. “Really?” she giggled. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bitch, but his face gives away almost everything.”

“That’s — okay, that’s true, but it isn’t what I mean,” Irina huffed, inwardly surprised at how easily the excuse came. _Guess it really was bothering me._ “I can’t figure out his motives. One second he says he’ll blow up the planet, the next he’s sobbing like a baby ‘cause you brats said something nice about him.”

“…oh. I think I get it now. You can’t figure out what he wants?”

“Not a hundred percent. That’s what’s so _frustrating_ about him. You think you know what’s going on in that beach ball brain of his, but he’s so smug and coy and damned hard to pin down!”

“Heh, the smug part is definitely true.”

Irina gritted her teeth. “Ugh, don’t even get me started on that. The only thing I really know is he cares about you kids, and even then, I don’t know what he really wants from you. I don’t know what he wants with _us_!”

_And me,_ a smaller part of her mind added. 

Kataoka’s shoulders slumped. “I know what you mean,” she said quietly. “It’s weird, but I trust him when he says he wants the best for us. I think he means it. I just think he means the part about destroying Earth, too.”

“Same here. The mixed signals are driving me nuts.”

“Yes! I can’t—” Kataoka suddenly faltered. “Where did everyone go?”

“Huh?” Irina slid to a stop as she looked around. The rest of the class was nowhere in sight, though they could faintly hear laughter from further down the trail. “Damn. Guess we slowed down while we talked.”

“Sorry, Ms. Bitch. I didn’t mean to distract us.”

“It’s fine. We’ll catch up with them in a bit.”

Irina started jogging again, wincing as her knees protested. She heard Kataoka’s footsteps follow behind her and then the sound of someone stumbling. She turned around just in time to see Kataoka fall sideways—

“Whoaa _aaaaahhhh!”_

—and disappear over the edge of the trail.

Irina froze. She stared dumbly at the spot where Kataoka once stood. Then she sprinted forwards, screaming, “Kid?!”

_Why do I only remember_ **_now_ ** _that we’re on a damned mountain?!_

Kataoka clung to a branch several feet down the hillside, legs swinging in empty air. She stared up with wide and terrified eyes.

“Shit! Can you get a foothold anywhere?!” 

Kataoka looked around, then mutely shook her head. The branch in her grasp began to buckle. She let out a whimper.

Frantic, Irina dropped to her knees. “I’m gonna try to reach you!” she called, leaning over the edge and stretching out an arm. Her hand stayed stubbornly out of reach. The branch continued to bend under Kataoka’s weight.

“Hey, hello?! Anyone around here?! We need help!”

Nobody responded. The branch groaned ominously. Kataoka scrabbled at the splintering wood, gasping. 

“Help!” Irina screamed. “Help, dammit! We need—!”

The ground shook. 

“Hang on!” the octopus cried, suddenly behind her. Tentacles shot out. Kataoka grabbed them just as the branch cracked in half, tumbling down and splintering into millions of pieces on the rocky ground below.

The octopus slowly reeled his tentacles in. Irina finally grabbed Kataoka’s hand and together, they pulled her back over the edge. 

“Oh, thank — sh _iiiiit_!” Kataoka’s weight pitched Irina forwards just enough for her to wobble on her feet, then suddenly lose her balance and fall into empty air—

A tentacle snagged her arm. “Gotcha!”

The octopus pulled Irina back and she hit the dirt on her knees. He followed suit, his face a paler shade of yellow than usual. “Miss Irina, are you alright?!”

“Y-yeah,” she panted. “Just… just give me a sec…”

He turned to Kataoka, who shakily answered his questions and confirmed her lack of injuries. The rest of the class came running up then, having heard some of the screams, and things blurred together for Irina. She didn’t have time to think it over until she was sitting back in their shared office and nursing an energy drink.

“Hey.”

The octopus looked up from putting the first-aid kit away. “Hm?”

“How’d you find us when the rest of the class couldn’t hear us?”

“Oh, that’s simple! I have advanced hearing,” he said proudly, flickering green stripes. “It was just a matter of pinpointing the source of the sound.”

Irina frowned. She took a swig of her energy drink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Another advantage over us, huh.”

“Yes, though I’m more thankful for it today than most days.”

“…why?”

“Why am I more thankful for it?”

“No,” Irina bit out. _This is stupid._ “Why’d you grab _me?”_

“I — sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t—”

“Kataoka, I can understand. She’s one of our brats,” she continued, leaning her elbows on the desk. “But you didn’t have to save me. I’m still trying to _kill_ you.”

“Miss Irina—”

“So, what do you want? What’s your use for me?”

“You… you think this is about something I want from you?” 

She shrugged, eyes steely. “That’s what it always is.”

“I… Miss Irina,” he began, and his voice shook slightly. A tremor ran through his shoulders as he turned to look her in the eyes. “I… I think apologies are in order.”

“…what?”

“I’ve clearly done something to make you feel pressured, or as though I have some underhanded motives. That was _never_ my intention. It should have occurred to me that my teasing about bribes was in poor taste.”

Irina blinked. “Those were _jokes_?”

“I thought it was friendly ribbing! I should have realized — well…”

“That I get that stuff all the time in my line of work?”

“Yes. I have no desire for you to feel that way here _,_ as a member of our class.”

_He means it,_ Irina realized numbly. _The steady eye contact, the sincerity — he’s ticking all the boxes. This is the truth._

“If you feel pressured to stay here in any way, I deeply apologize. I… I felt Class E was a good fit for you, and I still believe that. But I understand if you don’t feel the same and would rather—”

“Whoa, whoa!” she cut him off, slicing a hand through the air. “I’m not going anywhere, octopus! Where’s this coming from?”

“W-well, you were saying that I wanted something from you, and all I recalled saying was that you’d make a fine teacher!” 

“I didn’t mean _that_! Hell, I stuck my neck out for one of the kids today! No way I’d go that far if I didn’t give a damn about them, understand?!”

Instead of shrinking away from her, the octopus stilled. Silence hung over them. Then he said softly, “I believe I do.”

Irina’s face warmed, but she didn’t feel any regret for her confession. “Good,” she snapped. “Now I’ve gotten that into your thick head, I was _actually_ trying to figure out what else you wanted from me. ‘Cause I hate to admit it, but I owe you now.”

_That_ made him rock back, surprised. “‘Owe me?’ Miss Irina, your being safe and unharmed is all I want.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, and you thankfully are both of those things, so any debt has been fulfilled!”

Irina just stared at him. It finally clicked in her mind: she still didn’t entirely know his motives or his ultimate plan, but she knew one thing for certain. 

_He… he cares. He didn’t have to save me today, but he did. He_ wanted _to. He’s silly and sappy and 100% genuine about us._

And for the time being, that was enough. 

“Cool,” she decided. “Great. It’s — whatever. Thanks.”

The octopus broke into a smile. “Thank _you_ for being there for Kataoka.”

“I… I’m just glad she’s okay.”

“As am I.”

The vulnerability didn’t feel as — well, as _vulnerable_ to Irina as she’d feared. It didn’t feel like someone had pulled her apart at the seams and dumped her stuffing on the ground in a dusty, messy pile. It felt like she’d just patched herself up with stronger threads. She felt lighter and more whole at the same time. Maybe it should’ve scared her. It would’ve scared her, a few months ago. 

But this was now. And Irina was weirdly fine with it all, because now she knew it was safe to care. _If the walking beach ball can do it,_ a small part of her mind whispered, _then I damn well can, too._

_Just not about said beach ball. I’m not gonna care about him. I_ won’t _get compromised!_

**************************************

  
  


Jazz floated down from the speakers above. Breathing in the mingling scents of various perfumes, Irina flipped through clothes racks in a quiet corner. She dropped a price tag and reached for the next hanger, huffing a sigh.

“I can’t sell this to you.”

“Huh? Sorry, but why not?”

Irina’s hand froze around the hanger. _That voice…_

Her head snapped up to see the octopus standing at the checkout counter. He wore a blue women’s blouse, a brunette wig and long dress slacks.

_Oh, for — of course he’s_ _here!_

The sales clerk pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, but this is a women’s boutique.”

“Yes…? And a very lovely one that has the perfect summer dress for the upcoming—”

“We don’t serve men.”

“Oh, but I’m not a man today.”

Irina thought herself very good at reading people. The best in her profession, in fact. So beneath the cheer and brightness in the octopus’ declaration, she heard something she’d recognized many times before: steady, self-assured confidence. She’d only heard it from those who knew themselves to state an undeniable truth.

_…oh,_ Irina realized. 

Unfortunately, the clerk responded in kind. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, _sir_. I—”

The octopus visibly flinched, smile slipping. “Please don’t call me that.”

“—I have to ask that you leave this section of the store. We have nothing for you here.”

_…wait, what?_

Blinking, the octopus held up a green sundress. “But — but this dress is—”

“Not meant for you, sir.”

_What._

“Please, miss, I’m a woman. And regardless of whether I’m one or not, doesn’t it make more sense to complete a sale than turn one away?”

“Making a sale here isn’t worth it if it’s serving someone like you.”

_WHAT._

“We have a men’s department if that’s what you’d—”

“It’s not what I’d prefer,” the octopus said firmly. “ _This_ here is what I prefer.”

“Then I won’t sell it to you, sir.”

**_WHAT?!_ ** _Okay, that’s_ **_it!_ **

“Hey!” Irina snapped, stepping out from behind the clothes rack. 

The octopus almost dropped the dress. “M-Miss Irina?!”

“Yes, miss?” the clerk asked. “I’m sorry, is he bothering you?” 

“Wh— no! The only thing that’s bothering me is your attitude, and I’m sure _she_ feels the same way!”

“But — but miss—”

Irina stormed over to the octopus. “I’m leaving. I won’t put up with this crap, and you don’t have to put up with it, either.”

“Are — are you sure? You were looking at—”

“I’m sure. You?”

The octopus hesitated, then set down the dress on the counter. She nodded. 

“Look, you can’t—” the clerk began. 

Irina whirled around. “We damn well can! Unless you’ll sell her the dress?”

The clerk just spluttered incoherently.

“Then thanks for nothing!”

They strode out of the store together and entered the mall itself. Irina’s heels clacked furiously against the marble flooring. “God, I hate people like that! I can’t believe they’re allowed to have jobs.”

The octopus’ chuckle was a little strained, but good to hear all the same. “I never understood it myself. I honestly thought she’d realized I’m not quite human.”

“You’d think. That disguise is the literal worst.”

They lapsed into silence. Only the chatter of shoppers around them filled the gap.

“…Miss Irina, I—”

“Don’t thank me.”

She raised her gloved “hands” placatingly. “I wasn’t about to!”

“Really?” Irina crossed her arms. “Then what _were_ you going to say?”

“Just that I hadn’t known you were so passionate about those things.”

“…yeah, well. My job goes to all sorts of places. Bars, nightclubs, that stuff. You meet all sorts of people. And you learn a thing or two while you’re at it.”

Irina thought for a moment about everyone she’d met — the men, women and people of all shades in between who already had hard enough lives. She also thought about the idiots who taunted and catcalled them, the ones who made a pastime of watching them squirm and duck their heads.

She recalled the crunch of those idiots’ noses under her fist.

“It’s nothing special, octopus,” Irina insisted, coming to a stop in front of one of the nearby stores. “I’m not that heartless.”

“Oh, of course.”

“…are you making fun of me?”

The octopus flashed green stripes, chuckling. “Now why would I do that? After all, you’ve been so nice to me.”

“Hey! Don’t forget you’re my target, too!”

“Is that so?”

“Duh. I’m just getting you to like me so you’ll drop your guard.”

“You know, I always look forward to attempts, but I have to say that I especially like _this_ particular strategy of yours.”

“Cut that out or I’ll—!”

“Or you’ll what? You’ll… huh?”

The octopus suddenly trailed off. She stared at the storefront over Irina’s shoulder — or more specifically, at the green sundress advertised as on sale in the window.

“What?!” Irina demanded. _“_ What are you looking — oh.”

“Is… is that what I think it is?” 

“You — you’re not blind. You can see for yourself.”

“Did you know about this?” 

Her face flushed a deep red. “I… I didn’t—”

“Because now that I think about it, you seemed to know where you were going when—”

“Shut up.”

The octopus looked from her, then to the dress in the window, then back again. Something softened in her beady gaze. “Miss Irina, I—”

“Go get your dress or I’ll stop using ‘this strategy’ and just kill you!”

“Hmm… well, since you put it like that, I guess I have no choice.” 

“Damn right you don’t!”

The octopus’ smile broadened before she zipped into the store. Irina rocked back and forth on her heels for a moment, then stalked in after her.

_I’m just getting some clothes,_ she told herself. _It’s like I said: I’m getting my mark to let her guard down, and I’m keeping her — wait, what’s she doing?_

“Hey!”

The octopus startled, looking up from a clothing rack. “Yes?”

“The sizes you’re looking for are over there,” Irina muttered, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. “Y’know. Since you probably need something larger.”

“Oh. Thank you, Miss Irina!”

As the octopus cheerfully swayed over to the other side of the store, Irina exhaled slowly. A chuckle escaped her. _Oh, who am I kidding? I’m totally compromised. Damned octopus being all sincere just wore me down._

_…if I’m already compromised, what’s a little more?_

“So, uh… are you looking for more variety? ‘Cause I know some styles.”

The smile she received in return loosened her chest, and she found herself daring to smile back. It felt shaky and awkward — thanks to it not being her “work” smile — but also more genuine than anything she’d done in a long time. 

  
  


********************************

  
  


The punching bag rocked back and forth. Irina swung another jab, hair tied back and sweat beading on her forehead. Only the hum of fluorescent lights above filled the gymnasium between her ragged breaths. 

Anxiety buzzed under her skin. She tried to pound it out of her with each punch, each swing and each blow. Eventually she doubled over and panted. The slight slanting and rolling of the floor beneath her felt oddly comforting, reminding her they were on a ship for home.

_Home,_ she reflected, _where no knife-wielding psychos are gonna come after the kids. Where they’ll all be safe._

Irina straightened up, peeling off her gloves. She glanced at herself in the mirrored walls of the gym. As she peeled sweat-dampened strands of hair back from her face, a single thought wormed its way to the front of her mind.

_For a cruise ship, this room’s weirdly small…_

That thought closed around her throat like a fist. It choked out any breath left in her and swelled the buzzing anxiety into ceaseless static. 

_Small,_ said an increasingly frantic voice at the back of her mind. _Small. Cramped. Not big enough. Walls closing in, closing in like the cellar—_

“Damn it,” she hissed, flinging her gloves across the room. Her feet spun around and carried her to the door, then the stairwell. She ran up the steps two at a time, hearing her rattling footsteps echo off the walls—

_Closing in, closing in! The cellar!_

—and she burst through the exit, skidding to a halt on the ship’s open deck. Cool, salty air brushed over the back of her neck. It dispelled any remnants of the gym’s stale air from her nostrils. 

_“You do not have to meditate like a monk,”_ Lorvo gently scolded from an old memory. _“Sometimes it is just breathing, just being that can clear your mind.”_

Irina closed her eyes. She slowly breathed in through the nose and then out through the mouth, focusing on how her chest inflated and deflated with each breath. Gradually the tight, invisible webbing over her chest loosened. Her ribcage stopped strangling her lungs. The hissing static in her ears faded to a whisper. 

_Of course he’s right, that old codger,_ she thought distantly, and not without a trace of fondness. _He’s always right._

Finally, she opened her eyes and leaned against the deck railing. “I know you’re there.”

“How long did you…?”

“Ever since I got up here.”

The octopus slowly slithered around the corner, wringing the hem of his floral shirt. “It sounded like you needed quiet time to yourself,” he began sheepishly, “and I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

She met his gaze, shoulders tensing. “Yeah? What do you know about ‘needing quiet time?’”

“I needed it myself. I couldn’t sleep and… well, it seems I had the same idea as you.”

“Can’t sleep? You seasick again or something?”

“No, thank goodness,” he chuckled softly. He braced himself against the railing and looked over the churning sea below. “I was just worried.”

“He’s in custody, you know,” she said nonchalantly. “Takaoka.”

Some tension left the tentacles that gripped the railing. “Yes. I remind myself of that. I’m glad, and I’m so proud our students are responsible for that.”

“But you’re still not feeling great about it, huh?”

“I feel as though I created this situation. I put them in a position where someone like Takaoka was brought into our class, considered as necessary—”

Irina scuffed the railing with her sneaker. It rattled hollowly, silencing the octopus. “He wasn’t necessary. Nothing he did was necessary.”

“I’m glad we agree on that front, but it… isn’t the issue I speak of. None of this ever should have happened. Not his twisted scheme on the island, not his introduction to our classroom. Our students—”

“Did everything they could and are _doing_ everything they can. They’re safe now.”

“It doesn’t change the fact they shouldn’t have had to push themselves to their limits. They shouldn’t _have_ to be responsible for… for my mistakes. For what I’ve taken,” he added in a voice almost too soft to hear. 

“I… look. You can’t change what happened. What’s done is done. You just have to keep moving forward.”

He looked over then, his movements unsteady. A blue pallor shadowed his face and the colors of his floral shirt suddenly seemed washed-out in the moonlight. 

“I know what I’m talking about,” she said uncomfortably. She didn’t know why she bothered, why she kept pushing over the nagging familiarity in his inflection and words that wouldn’t leave her alone. But what she was about to say — what she _wanted_ to say — felt right somehow. 

“I know what it’s like to regret things you’ve done,” she murmured. “And it sucks, ‘cause all of the guilt in the world can’t fix it.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “It can’t.”

“Even if you weren’t there before, though, you’re here now. So are the kids, and the kids still need you. Don’t tell Karasuma I said that.”

A startled chuckle escaped the octopus. 

“So just — I don’t know. Do what you can. Before we take you out.”

“I…” His eyes looked suspiciously damp. “I’d be honored to do exactly that. If you don’t mind my saying so, I think you would as well.”

“Yeah,” she heard herself say. “Maybe.”

They both looked out at the sea again, listening to it spray and thrash against the sides of the ship. Peaceful didn’t strike Irina as the right word to describe it, but it sounded close enough. It felt close enough.

“I still can’t sleep,” the octopus suddenly admitted.

“Hell no,” Irina agreed. “I’m wired. Even if I wasn’t, everything’s too small on this ship. The damn gym is so cramped a person can’t even breathe in there—” 

_Wait. Wait! What am I saying?!_

The octopus blinked down at her. She realized she’d stopped talking mid-sentence. “—uh, because the ventilation is terrible,” she finished lamely.

_God, go ahead and broadcast your trauma to the whole ship! This is why we don’t do emotional talks at_ fuck o’clock in the morning, _idiot!_

Her cheeks burned. Conscious of her heating face, Irina abruptly turned away and stared out at the sea. 

“Actually, I… I don’t like tight spaces, either.”

She stiffened. 

“Everything feels much too close,” the octopus continued softly, wringing his tentacles. “I feel as though I’ve been backed into a cage with no escape and nowhere to hide. It’s… unsettling. Very anxiety-inducing…”

A pause hung in the air.

“…and I could never hold it against anyone when I struggle with it myself.”

Irina slowly looked up. “…me neither.”

The world didn’t shatter underneath those quiet, layered declarations. And just like that, something seemed to relax in both of them. 

“Wanna just stay out here, maybe watch some YouTube videos?”

“I would _love_ to, Miss Irina.”

“Eh, there’s no need for the ‘miss’ anymore. Not after,” she began, waving at the empty and night-shadowed deck, “all of this.”

A genuine smile flickered on his face. “I suppose not.”

They pulled up deck chairs and sat down to watch the most outrageous slime videos they could find. The last thing Irina remembered was tossing a towel over the octopus’ sleeping form before she slumped over and passed out herself. 

*****************************

  
  


“Wait! You’re not allergic to pollen or any types of flowers, are you?!”

Irina squinted at the octopus, who blocked the door to their office with a wall of woven tentacles. “What have you done now?”

“I thought our place could use a little brightening up,” he said sheepishly, shifting to the side. She spotted a flower box hanging just outside the office window, filled to the brim with cream and orange blooms. 

“Oh. Well, I’m not allergic, so no need to get your tentacles in a twist.”

“Thank goodness! I hadn’t thought about health risks until after I’d installed it.”

“I’m no expert,” Irina began, carefully stepping over the tentacles, “but isn’t it late to get on your green thumb? It’ll be fall soon, and then winter after that.”

“Which is why they’re autumn blooms! Besides, at a time when life is receding, it’s nice to see a little growth. I… I want to nurture it as best as I can.” The octopus gingerly brushed a tentacle over the blooms. 

“Is everything you say supposed to sound poetic?”

Green stripes crossed his face. “I’m simply gifted like that, you could say.”

Irina rolled her eyes. Sighing, she flopped behind her desk and rifled through a stack of worksheets. As she went over each one with a red pen, the octopus continued to fuss over the blossoms in the corner of her eye. 

Suddenly, she heard the sound of dirt raining down on the floor. The octopus’ gasp prompted her to look up. “What?” 

“The — oh, I’ve ruined the flowers!” he cried mournfully. A tentacle frozen in mid-air gripped several uprooted, broken stems. “I’m so clumsy! I didn’t think—”

“Whoa, whoa! It was an accident and besides, they’re just flowers. No need to get all worked up over it.”

The tentacle holding the uprooted flowers dulled to a pale blue. “Maybe,” the octopus murmured, stroking their petals. “But they still were living, innocent beings. I hate to be the cause of more unnecessary harm to anything or anyone.”

Irina frowned, standing up. “If you say so. You sure you can’t just replant them?”

“I can replant some of them, but not all of them have their stems and roots intact. Such a shame. I was looking forward to seeing them all in full bloom…”

It took some rooting around in the storage closet, but Irina managed to pull out a broom and dustpan. “Here. I’ll trade you for the flowers. You can get the dirt off the floor, and I’ll put them in the compost pile. They’ll still help contribute to, uh, ‘new life’ or whatever.”

He accepted the broom and dustpan with a sigh. Irina held out the tattered blossoms at an arm’s length, walking hurriedly out of the office in an effort to keep dirt from falling over her white skirt. Something about his words, however, niggled oddly in the back of her mind. They stuck there long after she deposited the flowers in the compost bin, through her grading period and into her lunch break, by which time the octopus had left for another around the world trip. Finally, Irina set down her sandwich, rubbing at her temples. She replayed his words in her mind.

_It’s not just about how guilty he seemed,_ she mused, _though it’s weird he felt so bad about flowers. There was something about how he put it..._

“ _I hate to be the cause of more unnecessary harm…”_

She sat up straight. _That’s it! The hell did he mean by_ **_more_ ** _?! I don’t think he makes a habit of uprooting flowers, or ‘living, innocent beings’ or…_

Her train of thought trailed off. Gears turned in her head.

_He didn’t bring up innocent beings for nothing. And since he was so rattled… he must’ve been talking about things bigger than flowers._

Everything began to fall into place -- not just this incident, but the other things she’d noticed: his fierce protectiveness and devotion to the safety of everyone around him. His bowed head and shoulders as he spoke of mistakes, of taking what mattered most from people. His lessons themselves, carefully designed to avoid harm to their students even as they taught how to kill. 

_His lessons,_ she thought, a pit opening up in her stomach. _I’ve always thought they were thorough. Precise. Everything I know about assassination and more.  
  
_

_...and lots of insider knowledge._

Irina let out a shaky breath. The chair creaked underneath her as she leaned back, gripping the armrests with enough force to tear the leather. She stared at her desk for several long moments. Then her shoulders shook with a soft, incredulous laugh. 

_I’ll be damned. Can’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner, actually. All of that time thinking about how there’s something weirdly familiar to how he is, and it was staring me right in the face._

She pushed herself out of the chair and walked over to the window box. The blooms swayed in the breeze, their topsoil carefully smoothed back over. Only a few bent stems and missing petals distinguished the previously-uprooted flowers from the others. He’d clearly made every effort to reintroduce them with the same gentleness, same unwavering tenderness and patience with which he touched everything. Irina tried to imagine him handling them with a rougher touch, tried to picture those tentacles ruthlessly yanking the roots out of the soil, but stopped. 

_That’s not who he is,_ she thought, bracing her palms on the windowsill. _Not anymore, and not now. He’s still making mistakes, but… he’s trying. He’s doing what he can._

Suddenly, his damp eyes from their conversation aboard the cruise ship made more sense. Irina laughed again, shaking her head. _I was speaking from experience, and I didn’t even know we shared it! Not on a conscious level, anyways. What’re the odds?_

_And maybe… maybe we share more than that. Maybe we share this, too. This class. This — god, this is such a sappy thing to think — this second chance._

_…well. I’ll be damned before I let either of us blow it._

Irina came into school the next day with new seed packets, an empty window box and a glare that brokered no arguments. It turned out she didn’t need the glare. Tentacles and manicured hands equally assisted each other as they planted the new seeds. 

*****************************

Irina adjusted the box against her hip. “So, this is your place? Not bad.”

Karasuma just nodded, fingering the keys in his pocket. He kept glancing at her with a noticeable stiffness to his shoulders. _Definitely nervous._

“Hey. I wouldn’t have said yes to this if I hadn’t wanted to… or if I hadn’t cared, or whatever.”

His gaze stayed on her that time. Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders, and he sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. This is just new for me.”

“Yeah, well. Haven’t done this for longer than a few nights with someone,” she admitted quietly. “You’re not alone.”

“…then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Her free hand strayed to his side and, after a moment, his fingers slowly slid between hers — tentative, but no less warm. They didn’t let go when the elevator doors slid open. She gave him a small smile, and while he didn’t smile back, the creases of his brow smoothed out and his face softened.

They walked out of the elevator and Irina followed him to a door at the end of the hall. Karasuma paused with his key in the lock. “Before we go in, there’s… something I should explain.”

“Oh?” She blinked out of her thoughts. “It’s not a dump in there, is it?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think you were that type, but good to know.”

“I’m flattered,” he said dryly. 

“I wasn’t even trying that time! You’re so not ready for my _real_ flattery.”

He let out a tiny huff that might’ve been a chuckle. “We’ll have to see.”

Irina grinned, hefting the box higher on her hip. The movement seemed to remind him of his original train of thought, and his face sobered. “Right. What you should know is—”

The door next to theirs suddenly swung open. A whiteboard hooked to its doorknob banged against it, reading in black marker, _My pronouns today are: they/them!_ But Irina noticed those details second, because the first thing she registered—

“Welcome to the neighborhood!” a _very_ familiar voice cried out, as cheerful as the brightly-colored cake that was shoved under her nose. 

“Hey!” Karasuma snapped. “I told you—!”

“Oh, but I couldn’t wait any longer! I just _had_ to welcome her before the cake went cold!”

“You’re shitting me,” Irina managed to say. “This isn’t some kind of prank?”

The octopus’ smile wavered, and the chef’s hat perched on their head began to slide off. “Why would it be? I’m just welcoming you, like a good neighbor!”

“Neighbor?”  
  


Karasuma pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. They were relocated here,” he said slowly, peering at her from behind his hand. “It was the arrangement we agreed upon after I approached my superiors again, at your recommendation.”

“You’re saying that _I_ led to the two of you becoming… neighbors?”

“Since the spring of last year!” the octopus confirmed happily. 

Irina looked between the two of them, first eyeing the octopus in their full chef’s outfit and apron, and then the exasperated expression kept carefully on Karasuma’s face. He sighed through his nose. That finally broke her composure, and she doubled over with laughter. 

“Oh my god,” she wheezed. “How’d you two not kill each other?!”

“I wonder about that sometimes too.”

The octopus gasped. “You wound me, Karasuma!” 

“Not as much as your opera singing wounded my eardrums.”

Irina laughed even harder, incredulity mixed with growing delight. _This,_ she thought gleefully, _is gonna be good._ “Yeah, I don’t think I’d want to hear that either,” she snickered. “But are we gonna eat that cake or what?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

And with that, they all went into Karasuma’s apartment for a long evening of bickering, eating too much cake and lesson planning. Irina couldn’t have asked for anything better. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Here are some additional notes:
> 
> \- I originally intended to end this like I did the previous installment, but decided that seeing Korosensei sick would maybe hit too close to home for some of us, myself included. Irina was going to show up with a “get well soon” card from E-Class. 
> 
> \- The mentions of a cellar and tight spaces are references to an incident in Irina’s childhood, when she hid in a cellar next to the body of a dead man. I thought it unlikely that she wouldn’t have any trauma associated with this, hence why close spaces trigger her anxiety. Korosensei and his experience with captivity allows him to understand and relate to Irina on that level. I like to think they can find support and some measure of healing together.
> 
> \- Irina and Karasuma start living together in canon, so she was going to find out he and Korosensei were neighbors at some point. I thought her making the suggestion that started the whole arrangement would add an extra layer of humor to the situation. Luckily for her, Korosensei has already been dissuaded from singing opera in the shower. 
> 
> As always, comments and constructive criticism are welcome! I’m especially looking to improve my writing while stuck indoors. Thank you again for reading this, and stay safe out there!


End file.
